


Day Twenty-Five: Car Accident

by OBlossom



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [25]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Blizzards & Snowstorms, FebuWhump2021, IronDad and SpiderSon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:00:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OBlossom/pseuds/OBlossom
Summary: The streets of New York were insane at the best of times; breaks screeching, horns honking—and the perennial favourite, cab drivers cussing a blue streak at every pedestrian who dared cross the street... with or against the light. The ridiculous thing about New Yorkers though, was that every year, the snow fell, and every year, New Yorkers forgot how to drive—And that was exact reason that Peter Parker had made the conscious decision to stick to the nice, safe sidewalks, thank you very much.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138958
Comments: 1
Kudos: 106
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Day Twenty-Five: Car Accident

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to keep up, promise. Life is telling me that the last story may not make it up until March 1st though. :(
> 
> Still...
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> -Colleen xo

Day 25: car accident

The streets of New York were insane at the best of times; breaks screeching, horns honking—and the perennial favourite, cab drivers cussing a blue streak at every pedestrian who dared cross the street... with or against the light. The ridiculous thing about New Yorkers though, was that every year, the snow fell, and every year, New Yorkers forgot how to drive—

And that was exact reason that Peter Parker had made the conscious decision to stick to the nice, safe sidewalks, thank you very much. He couldn’t even regret it as he froze his butt off while he walked down the street and through the blowing snow.

The thought had just flashed through his mind when he skidded on a patch of ice, his arms flew out and he windmilled until he managed to steady himself. He’d hoped that no one had seen him but hope was for fools. The homeless man standing in the alleyway made eye contact with him and started to applaud. Sighing, Peter gave a steep bow, “Thank you very much! My next performance is at 7pm!” The man laughed heartily and Peter dug into his pocket, hoping to find some loose change. He managed to find a forgotten five dollar bill and handed it over to the man. He definitely needed it more than Peter. “Hey, man,” Peter called out over the howling wind. “Go get yourself a hot chocolate or something, okay?”

The man took Peter’s offering and smiled. “Thank you, good sir. First a show, and now dinner!? This is my lucky day!” With the tip of an invisible hat, the man moved out of the alleyway and into the street.”

Peter watched after him for a second, then called out, “Hey!” 

The man turned back to Peter who was approaching him again.

“What do you need, young one?” He asked.

Peter pulled his gloves off of his own hands and pressed them into the man’s chest. “Please, take these, and... just stay safe, okay?” Peter couldn’t help but worry about him, and all the others who wouldn’t find shelter tonight.

The man gave Peter a nod and waved his gloves and five dollar bill. “I have a guardian angel, it seems, I’ll be fine.” He gave Peter his own look, “Now you, get out of the snow, too, you fool! Go!” He winked at him, and shooed him off. 

Peter waved to the man and they parted, Peter taking one last look around before heading off. 

Yeah, that was another issue he was having with the weather today, and Peter wasn’t sure what to make of it. He’d stepped outside and his spidey-sense blasted. He was trying to be extra diligent, make sure he caught the problem when there was a need but... 

The wind gusted and Peter burrowed further into his coat even as he shivered. That was all the incentive he needed to get moving again. 

Turning back toward the tower, he thought of the project he and Mr. Stark were working on. It was a little late given the situation, but the idea of an enhanced heater in his— his senses flared.

*meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*

Peter jumped back a couple of feet, throwing his arms out wide to keep some of the others pedestrians back and up on the sidewalk with him. A car came careening through the intersection, spun out and came to a stop after its rear tire jumped up the curb mere inches from where Peter and the others would have been standing. A police officer rushed past them all, well—as fast as he could for the ice, already reporting the incident and calling for a tow truck.

A throat cleared behind him, and with a sheepish grin, he lowered his arms and mumbled an ‘I’m sorry.’ The cluster of people sidestepped Peter and the debris and went on their way. Peter stayed to confirm that he didn’t need to provide a witness statement, which wasn’t necessary when the driver was obviously driving like a ‘dumbass’ in front of the a police officer. Peter wished the cop good luck with his night, and continued on his way.

What should have been a twenty minute walk had extended to thirty minutes, and then forty. His spidey-sense was going bonkers and it made no sense at all. A fender bender did not warrant this much discomfort, ‘cause that was the best way to describe it. Picking up groceries that scattered had when someone fell to the ground definitely did not warrant this much discomfort. It was a snow storm, not his first—and not even his first as Spider-Man. 

His senses flared again, but this time there was nothing for him to deal with, to help with, to anything—

It was going to drive him insane.

Peter looked behind him and wondered what he was missing. It had to be something else, right? But he saw nothing, and he wouldn’t now as the snow fell heavier, obscuring anything farther than a few feet in any direction of him. 

He pulled the collar of his coat tight again, and wished he had a scarf.

And again, he felt the heat of warning.

The streets were emptying. People were finally using their brains, getting off the roads and heading indoors, thank goodness. It was one less thing for him to worry about.

His senses had him on edge.

Peter’s thoughts briefly fell to the homeless man, hoped he’d found a place to be warm.

Suddenly, the back of his neck burned with an intensity he’d felt only in times of extreme danger. No. He couldn’t wait to figure it out anymore. He had to move. Peter knew Manhattan almost as well as Queens by now and knew he just had to cross the street and turn left, then he’d be only a street length from Mr. Stark and safety and a lab and maybe hot chocolate if he played his cards right. 

The barely useful streetlight overhead flickered and then went out, as did the line of lights that dotted the path Peter had intended to follow, as far as he could tell.

He needed to run—get to the tower before it was too late.

Peter glanced to the left, saw headlights in what he hoped was the distance, and then checked to the right. Again, the lights looked far enough away that he’d be safe to cross.

The rapid fire click of an extendable baton being set to length resounded in his ears louder than the howling of what was now a punishing wind and Peter ducked before whoever could connect. The man muttered a ‘shit’ and lashed out again. Peter dropped again, but not quick enough for all of the stimuli the snow and sound were providing. The baton cut into his cheek and clipped his ear, and Peter clutched it in pain even as he dropped lower to the ground. 

He couldn’t focus.

Gloved hands grabbed at the scruff of his coat, throwing him off balance, and started dragging him away. Peter scrambled for a foothold, but the ice gave him nothing. He tried to pry the man’s fingers off of him, but his own were too stiff from the cold to grasp anything. 

A large vehicle appeared out of the snow and darkness. Peter could hear the sliding door open, could hear words like ransom and intern and Stark...

And then he could hear the sound of a fist connecting with bone, but it wasn’t his fist, and it wasn’t his bone. The grip on him weakened, giving Peter the break he needed to step away from his abductor and escape. He tried to make out the shapes in the blizzard but everything was happening so fast and he was still trying to understand. 

The two forms continued to fight, when one slumped to the ground. The victor stood a little bit straighter and hurried towards him. He was preparing himself to fight again when the face of the homeless man from earlier in the evening was in his face. He grabbed a fistful of Peter’s sleeve and yanked as he rushed past. “RUN!”

Peter didn’t need any convincing and the two men bolted across the street, barely dodging a couple of straggler drivers trying to get home. “C’mon! This way,” he called out over the wind, and moved towards where he knew safety was waiting for them. The man hadn’t let go of Peter’s coat so they moved in tandem toward the tower. 

They were so close. The streetlights were still out save for those being powered by the arc reactor in the Avengers Tower. Traffic was non-existent and there wasn’t a pedestrian in sight. The storm had brought New York to its knees. 

And yet, one of the men still pursued them—and was gaining.

There was no way they were going to outrun him, and the man Peter was running with seemed to understand that too. They’d have to fight. They stopped and stood their ground.

“Once I’ve got this guy goin’ again, you run to the Stark building, got it?” His new partner instructed over the wind. “Get help!”

Yeah, no. There was no way Spider-Man was leaving a man behind. Peter didn’t answer, just planted his feet as solidly as he could for the ice and snow.

It was over before it started. 

The man who’d already tried to grab Peter came barrelling into them out of the whiteness, knocking Peter to the ground with enough force that his head bounced after it hit the icy concrete. He’d barely managing to move his new companion an inch. 

Peter tried to focus on the fight, honestly, but his head was hurting and his cheek was stinging. He couldn’t feel his ears, and he was fairly certain he was concussed. He tried to sit up, but the swirl of the snow and the press of the wind had Peter on his back and panting in an effort to not vomit. He could only turn his head to watch to see the outcome.

The storm chose this exact moment to give a brief reprieve. The wind calmed, the snow lightened, and Peter could see it all.

The bad guy lunged for Peter’s friend, and rather than be there for impact, he simply stepped aside and the man flew forward into the street from his own momentum. The problem was that this coincided with his partner speeding around the corner in order to collect their bounty—Peter. When he turned the corner and saw what was about to happen, he slammed on the breaks. If they had chosen any other day, this plan would have worked, but he hit a patch of ice and lost control of the van.

Peter closed his eyes to the impact, but was certain he’d never forget that sound of metal hitting flesh for the entirety of his days.

Peter forced himself over onto his side and vomited.

A rush of footsteps came from the direction of the building he’d been trying so hard to get to, but they all stopped when the homeless man planted himself over Peter and demanded that they all stop. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but until this kid says you’re okay, then you just stay back! Capiche?”

Peter once again forced himself to move, glanced over to the new additions to the party and smiled. “It’s okay,” he panted. “Friends,” and then proceeded to take a break from the festivities.

* * * * * *

“Peeee-ter.” A voice whispered by his ear.

Peter rolled over in his super comfy bed and pulled the blanket over his head.

“Peeeeeee-ter. It’s time to wake up, Peter. You have compa-neeeee.”

“Noooo, wanna s’eep.” He mumbled.

The voice, Mr. Stark, Peter had figured it out by now, was insistent. “You need to wake up and say thank you to the man that saved your life last night, kiddo.” He pulled the blanket back from Peter’s head. “It’s sort of the polite thing to do, ya’ know?”

Peter’s eyes flew open, then snapped shut again as the brightness of the room overwhelmed him. “ow.”

Mr. Stark got off the bed and rushed to shut the curtains. “Sorry, kiddo. I thought the concussion would have resolved by now. I guess I was wrong.”

“’S’okay.” He smiled a little and tried to open his eyes again. It was... better? And he needed to wake up anyways, right? He sat up in his bed, only barely recalling a conversation that he could sleep in his own bed instead of the med bay. His hand flew up to his bandaged cheek.

“Yeah, about that. It’s probably healed already, but we have company so I thought it best to keep up the aesthetic until he was gone, okay?”

He was still feeling a little slow on the uptake, but Peter got that. “Okay,” he agreed and moved to get out of bed... albeit very slowly.

Mr. Stark kept watch as he sauntered over from the window, making sure nothing went wrong. When he was satisfied, Mr. Stark chuckled and smirked. “Kid, you have got a real knack for picking up strays. Seriously.”

Yeah, Peter was definitely struggling to keep up. “What do you mean?”

A new voice comes from the doorway. “I think he means me.”

Peter’s attention jumped to the familiar looking man. He was obviously freshly showered from the pink of his skin and his long, salt and pepper hair was washed and pulled back away from his face with a hair tie. The standard SI sweats and t-shirt told Peter that he’d been welcomed there, by Mr. Stark himself, it seemed.

—And then it clicked.

“Dinner and a show?” Peter questioned.

The man smiled and nodded, almost bashful. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to be a part of the seven o’clock, but yes. It’s me.” 

Mr. Stark jumped in then, “Right! So! Peter, I would like to introduce you to Second Lieutenant Reginald Pritchard... ex-military, served in lots of bad places, would have to kill you if he told you about it, yada-yada-yada, and, it seems he is also your guardian angel.”

Peter thought on the night before and flushed as he realized how true that was. “You really did save my life yesterday,” Peter was overcome with gratitude. “Thank you so much, Mr. Second Lieutenant Pritchard, sir.”

Mr. Stark and their guest both laughed at his hyper-formality. 

“You can just call me Reg, Peter, and to be fair, I’m pretty sure you saved mine last night, too. I would’ve frozen to death if we hadn’t had such a...” he hunted for the right word, “I guess such a ‘meaningful’ first meeting.”

Confusion marred Peter’s face, “What do you mean? I don’t...”

It was Reg’s turn for cheeks to flush. “Look, uh, Peter... I’ve been on the street for a lot of years, and met a lot of people...” Reg looked down at the floor and scrubbed at the back of his neck. “And some of them have been good, so don’t think it’s been all bad, but... well.” He scrunched up his face, trying to control his emotions. “It’s been a while since someone’s seen me as a real, live person and not...you know, as something to toss a buck at so they can feel better about themselves.” 

Neither Peter or Mr. Stark knew what to say to that, but Reg plowed right through the awkwardness. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “So that’s why I was following you. To return this,” And Reg pulled an old, scratched and cracked cellphone from his sweatpant pocket. “You’d already walked away when I looked back and saw this on the ground. I figure it fell out when you gave me the fiver—anyways, I was trying to find you and kept getting corners wrong ‘cause of the snow. When I finally caught up with you...” Reg shrugged and handed over the phone. 

Peter almost couldn’t process. “You saved my life and my phone.” He looked up at Reg and grinned. “I think I’m supposed to give you my first born or something now.”

Mr. Stark snickered while their guest looked uncomfortable. “How’s about you leave the repayment of this debt to me, okay?” Mr. Stark stepped forward and stood beside Reg. “I have some thoughts, but for now, he’ll be our guest anyways.” Mr. Stark returned to the bedroom window, and drew back the curtains once more. The sky had been bright not for the sun, but for the whiteout conditions still raging.

Peter’s jaw dropped, “Wow.” He looked at Reg, “We were outside in that?”

“Yup.”

Peter looked over to Mr. Stark. “I’m exhausted just looking at it!”

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes, “No, you’re exhausted because you’re recovering from an attempted kidnapping and concussion.” He walked past Peter to the bed he’d just left and pulled the blankets back. “You’ve had your visit, now back in bed. Dr. Cho will be up in a while to clear you. Okay?” 

Peter grumped as he climbed back in and then grumped some more when Mr. Stark tucked him in, all while Reg watched from his place near the door. 

Curious, but also trying to distract from the blow to his dignity, Peter asked, “Um, what happened with everything... out there last night?” Peter waved toward the window, like they needed the clarification.

Mr. Stark got really serious then. “With the snowstorm being one of the worst on record and people still driving, the city has reports of unprecedented amounts of vehicle pedestrian accidents. There was even a hit and run outside the tower yesterday.”

“Oh,” was all Peter could think to say. “So...” He glanced between Mr. Stark and Reg.

“So the vehicle was abandoned and the driver has apparently vanished. But it seems that the man who was killed was a real bad guy. Had a rap sheet a mile long.” 

Peter gulped, “The driver got away?”

Reg smiled then, a dangerous glint in his eye. “I believe what Mr. Stark said, was that the driver vanished.”

Eyes connected then, and Peter understood.

He was safe. 

And maybe he should think about hibernating for the winter.

**Author's Note:**

> I love it when I completely re-write a story after discarding the initial draft on the day a story is to be posted. Doesn't cause me to panic at all!
> 
> (You're welcome, May Parker!)
> 
> And here you go. Day twenty-five.


End file.
